Shadows
by DiscoLau
Summary: Vincent prepares as his time comes to an end, but will the protection he seeks for his son turn out to be the greatest danger of them all?


Vincent stood by the window, staring out into the distance. Near the horizon, barely visible in the pre-dawn, rose a trail of dust from approaching carriages. He had planned a party for his son's tenth birthday today, but these were not the guests or even the tradesmen in preparation. It was too early for that. In his gut, he knew it was something else entirely. They were coming for him; him and his family. They intended for the sun to truly set for the Phamtomhives this day, and there was little Vincent could do about it.

Still, he was not known for giving up. He had not gotten this far, just like his father and his father before him, by lying down. He was the queen's Guard Dog until the end, and his bite was every bit as fierce as his bark. He pulled the cord near his desk, waiting for his faithful man to arrive. He absently rubbed his sapphire heirloom upon his hand while he waited. He was not kept long.

Having been summoned, Tanaka did not knock before he entered. He was a truly talented butler, and hardly made any noise as he entered. Indeed, the slight shuffle of his immaculate shoes only existed so that he would not startle his master in complete silence. When Tanaka did not want to be heard, he wasn't.

"You called for me, master?" His voice was clear and full of presence. It was ever so much less forceful than Vincent's own, but with just as much pride. Though not born into the family, Tanaka was every bit as much a Phantomhive as those he served.

"Yes. It seems to me that we should start the preparations for Ciel's birthday at once. Rouse my son, and take him at once into London, that he might select his own present. Should he delay, as he might when asleep in his mother's arms, then take him as he is, and his clothes as well, and dress him on the way. Pick something suitable, yet inconspicuous. Also, to mark this most – auspicious – of days, take him on a walk first through the woods, and take the carriage stabled at the gate."

Vincent turned to face his butler for the first time since the older man had entered. "And I beg of you, Tanaka, use all the haste and discretion that you command."

Tanaka stood quietly for a moment, reading his master's expression. He had served by his side since his birth, and had learned to listen to much more than the words that left his mouth. He saw the danger and fear that no one else save the master's wife would ever know, and nodded.

"Yes, my lord."

Tanaka turned on his heel, and reopened the door leading from the Vincent's office, but had only just crossed the threshold when the head of the estate made a last request.

"And Tanaka? When you take the boy, if you please, inform Rachel that I would very much enjoy her company, as soon as she may find herself suitably dressed. There is a chill this morning, and I would like her warmth by my side."

Tanaka simply nodded his head, as he could feel the master's gaze still upon him, and quietly closed the door.

Inside, Vincent watched his trusted friend and servant acknowledge his request and disappear before turning back to the window. There were still a few miles before the trail of dust made its way to the manor, still a few minutes until he had to face his own destiny. But it was not his fate he was concerned about. Tanaka was more than he appeared, but Vincent was never one to put all his eggs in a single proverbial basket.

In the many missions he had performed for the Queen, a great deal of knowledge had come his way. Some was not meant to be known readily by mortal minds, but Vincent was cunning and clever, and knew much he shouldn't.

He turned his mind inward; inward and down. He summoned all the darkness he could imagine – all he had seen and all he had done. He pooled the deeds of the Phantomhives, evils done in the name of the Queen, and the deeper evils attempted against the crown. There, in the pit of humanity where it became indistinguishable from inhumanity, he called out. And something responded.

The summoned had no form, nor sound, but was surely there. It was a creature of passion, and hate. Its emotions were clearer than its manifest existence, and the hunger it embodied was near to overwhelming. Yet Vincent willed it back to nothingness, and the thing skittered away.

Some moments later, another being approached in the darkness. It bore not rage, but overwhelming sadness and loss. It was looking for someone, and Vincent was not it. This twisted spirit was looking for a child, not all unlike his son but fairer for face and hair. He dismissed the presence and it went gladly.

He needed something colder, something stronger. Something worthy of a Phantomhive soul.

He was determined to find what he was looking for. And equally surprised to realize that he not only felt another presence, but that it was in the room rather than within himself. He spun away from the window, the rapier at his hip sliding free from the sheath in one clean move to threaten the intruder.

But the intruder was not threatened, not in the least. The intruder might not have even been there but for the hairs raised on the back of Vincent's neck, telling him otherwise. All the lights had been extinguished, leaving the room in utter darkness save for the scant lighting around the window. But even as that realization reached his mind, he understood this was not true. He could dimly make out the flame of a lantern. It had not been doused at all! It was more as if it were simply incapable of pushing away the darkness. Here and now, the shadow was the more powerful force.

After a few moments, the shadows began to coalesce. From wherever it withdrew, black feathers rained to the ground. Moments passed, and the darkness began to take shape. At first, the form seemed terrifying, as if the mere sight of it would rob him if his sanity and soul. It took every ounce of willpower Vincent possessed to not turn away, though his sword nearly shook free of his grasp. Yet the demon was not done, and it continued to collapse upon itself. Streaks of light began to appear in the darkness, and they took on the hue and texture of pale flesh and linen. Where once was nothing, and then something much worse, now stood a man.

The man was tall and thin, but did not seem weak. Indeed, his very posture spoke of untold power and poise. The blackness that still surrounded this 'man' had compressed itself into an exquisite tail coat and trousers, an impeccable uniform of a butler. Every inch of fabric was pressed, steamed, and polished, from the soot black Italian leather shoes to the snow-white wingtips of his collar.

The demon butler's face was fair and lean. He had a long sharp jaw line that only added to his perfect stature, only betrayed by the barest hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth. The only other distinguishing characteristic were the eyes. They were an unusual hue of red, somewhere between that of molten steel and perfect rubies. He could not help but think that Rachel's sister would probably find the figure before him attractive.

"Hmmm. And just what is it you desire that you would call out to one such as myself?" The tone was smooth as silk, with an edge like a finely honed dagger. The figure began to pace to its left, tugging gently on the hem of a tight white glove before brushing a few strands if his coal-black hair from his eyes.

"I…" Vincent found even his determination faltering in front of this figure in the shape of a man. "I would barter my soul for the well-being of my son!"

The figure stopped and turned an arched eyebrow to the man with the sword. "Really? Just a 'save my boy' and take your soul?" He huffed with distaste.

"For a moment there, I thought you might actually be a little more interesting than the countless pathetic other souls over the centuries. I daresay that I can't believe I let you wake me for this. I will make you a counter offer: how about I just kill you now and take your soul anyway?"

The demon raised his hand, and several of the dark feathers swirled up off the ground. One by one they came to rest in a line from his palm, and twisted into a rapier. It was an exact match to the blade in Vincent's hand, except where the human's polished steel glittered in the soft light, the demon's was darker than shadow, and seemed to emit despair and hopelessness. The sight of it made Vincent's knees weaken, though he was determined not to show it.

"Don't be so tedious, demon. If all I wanted was a nanny, I would have sent for my sister." Vincent sounded harsh, but the insidious being across from him could hear the slight tremble in his tone, and see the slight beads of sweat under the man's ashen locks.

"What my son will need in the days ahead is a sword and shield. Life is not about growing old, but of having a purpose and seeing it fulfilled. I have accomplished all that I require from this life save one goal, and that is to make sure my son has the same opportunity."

The demon had slowly circled the room, only barely listening to the man. In truth, only the fact that he had somehow called out to him specifically above all other demons kept him from tearing the man to oblivion and returning to his slumber. The presumptuousness of mortals never ceased to amaze him, though it had long ceased to surprise him. He reached the edge of the desk, and spying a picture frame, willed it to rise before him.

In the photo was the man who challenged him, standing tall and full of pride. His face was that of a contented ruler, satisfied with his dominion over life. Sitting in a chair by his side was a striking woman, just past her prime years, though no mortal eye would be able to tell. Her strawberry blond hair was pinned neatly around her head, though the long strands danced loosely around her shoulders. Her smile was warm and genuine, as if no troubles could reach her that day.

Sitting on her lap as a young boy who could not have been more than seven years old when the picture was taken. The child seemed a bundle of energy and curiosity, and the demon was amazed that the child was kept still enough for the photographer. The feature that drew the demon's attention, however, was the large blue eyes. They were clearly instruments of wonders, but there was more to them, a depth and a determination that surprised the hellish figure.

Vincent watched the demon stare at the picture, and some small part of him began to doubt the course he had begun. He order that the demon return the picture to its place, and was completely ignored. He took a small breath to steady himself, and thrust his sword towards the demon. The ebon blade swept to the side, knocking Vincent's blow off course with such force that the blade nearly came out of his hand. Yet he had not even glanced away from the photo. When a second command went unheeded as well, Vincent attacked again, this time feinting to the side before the overhead strike he intended.

Vincent never got that far. Before he could reverse the feint and make his true attack, the black rapier flashed out to meet it, and twisting downwards, pinned the Earl's blade against his mahogany desk. The young man gasped, unable to even fathom a person moving so quickly. Vincent tugged a couple of times before realizing the futility of freeing his blade. Only when he stopped resisting did the other person in the room finally seem to start paying him any attention.

The demons eyes rose from the frame to stare at the one that summoned him, and they were not the same eyes that had been there before. Replacing the molten rubies was a sickening, swirling blend of crimson and violet that bespoke of power and chaos and misery. The pupils had reshaped themselves into the thinnest of slits, reminding Vincent all too much of a beast on the prowl. The slight turn of the lips had blossomed into a smirk, but the human could not find the humor.

The demon stared into the eyes and mind of the mortal who was rapidly reconsidering the wisdom of his choices. He chuckled softly as the picture gently returned to the small stand on the desk. He lifted his sword, slowly bringing it in line with the heart he could hear beating so frantically. Vincent. His blade finally freed, stepped back quickly, taking up a defensive posture. The demon stepped forward.

"And just what did you expect a demon to do for your young, beautiful, unmarred child?" Step.

Vincent retreated before the figured approach. He did not want this person's help, not anymore. Yet under the intense gaze, he found himself answering the question almost involuntarily. "After today, my son would have a thousand questions and demand a million answers. Some he will not find, and some he should not. But the questions he raises about himself – he should have the chance to learn those answers. I.." Vincent swallowed before continuing, "I would have him learn what it is to be a man and a Phantomhive, and to not be broken under the false pretenses of the Queen."

Step.

"So you want this boy to be everything you are – and everything you are not? These are your terms? To chain myself to a lifetime of crying and bed-wetting? Do you think there is a soul worth such suffering? That any of my kith and kin would bind themselves for such a length of time is insulting, to say the least!"

Step.

Vincent stumbled backwards, not really sure how his chair had ended up behind him. He righted himself, only to realize that the razor-sharp obsidian edge was merely a palms width from his heaving chest. He tried to swat the blade to the side, but might as well have tried to uproot the manor for all the good it did. He back pedaled to distance himself, and felt the bookshelf halt his retreat after only a few feet.

Step.

He blinked, and when his eyes opened, the demon was there, having crossed an impossible distance. The dark swords blade poked through the fine fabric above his breast and caressed the skin beneath, with just enough force to hurt yet somehow not breaking the skin beneath. His fate no longer belonged to the Queen's men that approached. His very soul hung in this exact moment. The demon said nothing, simply watching, their eyes locked, each looking for something they had not yet found.

Time passed, though the human never really knew how much. Then a single thought entered his mind. He saw it reflected in the eyes of the monster. Yet for his own soul, he choose to speak the words. The inhale brought him pain, as the unmoving blade resisted the pressure and parted skin, leaving a find trickle of blood under the fine vestments.

"He is stronger than you know, demon. He is kind and curious, to be sure, but he is also brilliant and determined. Our deaths will haunt him, and hurt him, but he will seek the truth for himself and not for us. It wouldn't really do me or his mother any good then anyway, now would it?"

Vincent finished what he had to say, and prepared for the beast's response, if any was to come. The reaction was swifter then he expected. The pain I his chest disappeared, as did the sword. A few forgotten black feathers drifted to the ground, turning to smoke as they fell and disappearing altogether.

Even as the demon turned away, the edges began to blur and his physical form began to dissipate. "Very well," was the simple response the echoed through the room.

"You will accept my contract, then?"

"No."

The figure was all but gone, merging with shadows and a swirl of feathers. Vincent gaped at the darkness, dumbfounded. After all the confusion, the fear and turmoil, this creature was just going to walk away? Such cruelty brought him to his knees. His head hung low, and a tear began to well in each of his eyes. It was then he heard the laughter, and it made him afraid.

Something unseen cupped his chin, and forced him to look up. Deep in the impenetrable darkness was a smile that was too wide for any face. The teeth glittered despite the lack of light, and bore hungry fangs. The smile spoke.

"Your soul bored me, and I have no interest in another bland discourse. But you have piqued my interest, a near impossible task. I will watch this boy of yours, nothing more. If, and only if, your spawn reaches his end and calls out, I will come. Not before. If he is everything you claim and nothing less, I will make my deal then, and with him. And you can despair knowing that you could not bear the price of his soul."

The darkness faded away, and the room was clear yet again. Vincent looked carefully about, yet he knew that the demon was truly gone. And for the first time that day, he smiled. His gambit had worked, and his son, the boy he knew better than even the child knew himself, would be taken care of. He climbed to his feet even as the door opened and Rachel entered the room.

"Tanaka claimed our son early today, my love. And he said you wished to see me?"

Vincent smiled warmly, and took his wife into his arms.

"I do wish to see you, sweet Rachel. I am sad yet at peace, but could not go another moment without you at my side."

Somewhere downstairs, a loud thudding began, and after a few moments the main doors burst open. Rachel's eyes widened, before she realized what was happening.

"Ciel—"

"…will be safe, my love. I have made sure of it."

She nodded, having known as well as Vincent that this day would come. Her tears came then, thinking of her family, and her husbands, and the child they would never see again. Vincent began to dance with her then, to a tune only they could hear as furniture was smashed and burned and a chorus of boots came closer and closer. Each closed their eyes and thought only of each other and their one child.

~Fin~


End file.
